An Improper Seduction Page 4

  He could take her any time; he was sure of it. There was passion in her, more than he had hoped for, more than she knew she even possessed.

  Angeline had lost all sense, but her senses were on fire. Her ears heard her own breathing and his, rapid, ragged. Her eyes were closed tightly, but light filled them. She smelled flowers and man and woman. She felt his rigid length against her stomach, throbbing with the need he was not heeding. Instead, he was tending to her, making her feel all these luscious things. Making her body heat until it was molten. Making her lose her breath and not be able to find it. Making her want more and more.

  She felt her skirts move, heard them rustle. A warm hand lay upon her leg, her outer thigh. “No, I can’t take it. You must stop. It is too much . . .” she protested with half of her brain and none of her heart.

  “We have not yet begun, my angel,” came his assurance in a gruff, raspy voice as Geoffrey moved his hand between her thighs and cupped her mons.

  “You are scorching me, Angeline. Who knew you could attain such heat? Are you wet for me? Are you ready?” He slid his fingers between her cleft, finding her dripping, slick and ready.

  His cock throbbed with his need and still he ignored it, choosing instead to slide his finger inside her warm, wet passage. He groaned as he felt the delicate flesh tighten around his digit, felt the throb of her need.

  “Oh, Angeline, you are so ready for me, you are so hot, so wet, so very ripe for my cock. But,” he said as he gently pulled his finger from her only to slide it over her clitoris, felt her body clench from his casual touch, “this must be enough of a lesson for the first night.”

  He placed his hand against her backside to steady her, trailed kisses from her breast back up to her lips. “We cannot go too fast. It might be too much for your delicate sensibilities,” he whispered against her lips. As he steadied her position, he covered her shoulders with her gown, then buttoned her back to a decent state.

  Angeline swooned against him. He was going to stop? Now? When she wanted to learn everything there was to teach her? When her body ached for things she could not put into words? He was going to stop now?

  “No.” She pushed back into his arms, against the firm wall of his chest. “No, I don’t wish to stop now. My lesson cannot be over yet. There must be more,” she begged in a woozy, raspy voice.

  “Yes, my angel.” Geoffrey held her tightly to him, grasping her buttocks with one hand, the back of her neck with the other, pressing his desire into her belly. She felt the heat of him through the layers of fabric between them.

  “Yes, there is more, so very much more. But we will not learn of it tonight. Tomorrow night you must come back and we will continue your lessons. Tomorrow night I will show you more. You will feel more. You will feel all of me and I will feel all of you.

  “Not tonight. Tomorrow. You must go home now. You will need your rest.” He wrapped her cloak firmly round her shoulders, pale white shoulders he had so recently plied with his kisses, and escorted her to the door. “Good night, my Angeline,” he said gently, passing his lips over hers as he opened the door wide and gently pushed her through it. “Until tomorrow night, my angel.” He gave her another gentle push, then shut the door silently behind her.

  Angeline stood there, dazed. Her stumbling feet headed for home, her body still hot all over and damp in a most disturbing place, her mind fractured beyond her ability to gather it. Home she went and cuddled her body into the warmth of her bed, sleeping soundly and late, her dreams filled with a large, strong, green-eyed man.

  Geoffrey waited while his inexperienced lover departed, his body aching, his sex taut and throbbing.

  Tomorrow night he would ease his need of her and show her what heaven was like on earth. Surely Angel was the proper name for her. He tore off his clothes with abandon, opened the cottage door, and ran to the lake. He dove in, feeling the cold waters caress his heated flesh, his rampant sex. He swore he could hear the water sizzle as it hit him, see it steam as it rolled off his length.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow night she would be his.

  Chapter 4

  Angeline slid back the door to the dining room for the midday meal the next day. She was suddenly pulled up short by the image of the languorous length of her seductive archenemy.

  There he sat, Lord Colburn, strong, stunning and dangerous, his polished black Hessians stretched beneath the table, reflecting a hint of the sunlight that poured through the window, a similar glint highlighting the burnished red in his dark hair.

  A flush rose to her cheeks, heat spread throughout her body as images and sensations from the previous night of lovemaking at his cottage flooded her mind.

  Not to be outdone, she quickly pulled herself together, tilting her chin up to glide gracefully to the empty placesetting next to her father. It looked as if her end of the table had already been laid claim to.

  “My lord, it seems you’ve come to live with us,” Angeline commented in a tone reminiscent of a fiercely frigid apocalypse. She felt not a little vexed by the marquess’s complete insinuation into her placidly patterned life and the lack of the common courtesies.

  Neither he nor her father had risen from the table upon her entrance.

  Thomas, the butler, pulled out her chair then waited patiently to push his mistress in as she settled her skirts.

  “Only until you deign to come live with me, my lady,” countered the marquess in a warm, sultry voice as his scrutiny swept over her with tender intimacy.

  Angus’s head popped up from the plate set before him. What goes on here? he pondered as he listened to the belligerent banter between his guest and daughter. He could feel the fierce frisson in the air around them, the tension palpable.

  Angeline’s head snapped to, fire blazing in her seafoam eyes, dissension registered plainly on her angelic, virginal visage, the heat of her glare scathing in its intensity.

  Refusing to let things get too out of hand, Angus chose to clear his throat at that precise moment. “My lord,” he addressed Geoffrey, “how go things at the Park? Are you making the progress you had hoped?”

  Geoffrey looked at his host, the situation defused, at least for the moment. “All goes well, Angus. Extremely well, I should say. My tenants are in great appreciation of the long needed repairs that are being done while the household staff seems relieved to have someone in charge to direct the goings on there.”

  He paused. “Of course, any redecorating will be left to my wife.” Geoffrey looked back at Angeline’s face, clearly defying her to make a comment or challenge the implication his attentions had just engendered.

  Angus noted Geoffrey’s actions with relish. Finally, a man had arrived who could tame his wayward daughter. He now had no doubt that if anyone could number the days of Angeline’s self-imposed spinsterhood, it was this man seated at his table.

  Hallelujah! he thought. Salvation has arrived.

  Seeing the telling look on the marquess’s face out of the corner of her eye, Angeline thought it to her credit to withhold any response. She simply ignored his intimations, choosing instead to concentrate on the meal before her.

  Seemingly disappointed by the lack of a rejoinder, Geoffrey returned his attentions to his meal and his host, burying his consciousness in a mundane conversation concerning the running of large, landed estates.

  The balance of the meal was without event. When dessert was finished, the marquess rose from the table and bowed to his host, saying, “I have a meeting with my overseer on estate business this afternoon, Angus. I do hope you will excuse my short visit. As before, I greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

  He then strode over to Angeline to take her hand in his before she could pull it away.

  “Always a pleasure, my lady,” he said, in tones loud enough for the earl to hear. Then, under his breath, for her ears only, he whispered
, “Until tonight, Angeline. It is time for Lesson Two.”

  He grazed a kiss across her fingertips, his warm, wet tongue gently dampening her skin.

  Angeline’s eyes met his as warm liquid pooled between her legs. She felt roses bloom on her cheeks. As soon as she could, she pulled her hand away while mumbling, “My lord.” She returned her attention to her unfinished dessert plate.

  Angus looked on in amazed wonder, cheering the marquess on in his mind and heart. Yes, yes, there is much going on here. She will not easily rid herself of this beau.

  Later that afternoon, Angeline hurried into the front door of the Sisters Grimm’s small house. She was late and Patience and Prudence would not be happy. Removing her hat, gloves and bonnet, she handed them over to Sally, the maid. As she hustled into the parlor, she said, “I am so very sorry, ladies. I was tied up at the candle maker’s,” she nodded to the sisters in turn, both sitting quite comfortably in chairs near the hearth, then lost her focus as movement from the settee drew her attention, “and . . . I . . .”

  Her eyes met those of dark jade green as Lord Colburn rose to his feet. Heat flushed her body and her apologies died on her lips.

  Hearing someone clear his throat, Angeline looked over to its source. “Why, Lord Hexford. How good to see you again.”

  She moved toward him with her hand extended.

  She wished to see Roger Hexford, the Viscount Hexford, even less than she wished to see the marquess. Hexford had been after her for years, and of late, had been incessant in his pursuit. It was only by her own determination her father had not learned of his ardor or, possibly, even her father would not wish the boor to be his son-in-law.

  He was arrogant and disgusting. The sickly perfumed smell that emanated from his person preceded him in the room. His hair was slicked back with grease and looked like it had not been washed in a fortnight. His complexion had been plagued by some pox in his younger years so he bore the scars even now. And his breath. It could drop a person within ten feet of him.

  When his hazel eyes gleamed with dissipated delight at her welcome, Angeline’s stomach curdled. How she hated playing up to the viscount just to put the marquess in his place.

  Hexford, still standing next to the marquess, bent over her hand and kissed it gently. With difficulty, Angeline refrained from yanking it from his grasp.

  “Lady Angeline, the Misses Grimm invited me to tea earlier this week so I have just had the good fortune to meet the marquess.” His voice grated, showing no pleasure. He nodded his head at Geoffrey as if he was the lowest being on the face of the Earth, no less that the marquess’s title outranked his own.

  “Ah, yes,” said Geoffrey. “The Misses Grimm and their lovely niece, Gertrude, have been most welcoming. I happened upon them while in the village and they were generous enough to invite me to tea.”

  Angeline turned with a start. “Gertrude.” Her eyes fell on a fair-haired girl who could not be much past ten and eight years of age sitting demurely to the side. Gertrude’s blue eyes were clear, her young body lithe in her pale blue gown. Freeing herself from the viscount, Angeline extended both hands as she walked toward Gertrude. The girl’s blush gave her color and Angeline could hardly believe this was the same awkward child she had last seen five years before.

  “My, how you’ve grown up. You have become quite the beauty.”

  “Thank you, Lady Angeline.” With a pert curtsey, she honored the latest guest. “I have looked so forward to seeing you again. I am most hopeful you will share your experiences with me. I will go to London for the Little Season and I wish to know how to deport myself so I may make a good choice.”

  Angeline heard a muffled snort and turned her head to see Geoffrey smirking behind his hand.

  “No doubt,” he said, “Lady Angeline can give you all the advice you need to hold yourself unattached until the Season next spring. Then you will have your pick of the young beaus.”

  “I wish an older husband, my lord.” Gertrude smiled up at Geoffrey with adoration. “I would want someone who would be wise in the world and teach me what a wife should be. And I would run his household perfectly, as a dutiful wife should.”

  Angeline looked over at the marquess and nearly gasped as she saw the approving look he held. Her stomach retched as she sarcastically commented, “No doubt, Gertrude, there is some man looking avidly for a prize such as you. To be able to train her to his every whim. What man could resist?”

  “Hear, hear,” put in the viscount, missing Angeline’s inflection. “As I’ve been telling you, Lady Angeline. You must be willing to please your husband and take his guidance before all others. You will see that with me.”

  Her gaze still on Geoffrey, he quirked an eyebrow at her as he smiled and nodded.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” Patience said with a clucking sound. “This is not the subject to be discussed at afternoon tea. Why, we haven’t even let Lady Angeline gain her seat.”

  Both gentlemen stepped away from the settee they had been sharing. But Angeline merely graced them with a smile and sat in an available side chair. She settled her skirts, then looked back to the small gathering.

  Prudence ventured into the fray. “So, Lord Colburn, tell us more of what you think of our little village of Wentworth and its surroundings. Have the local citizenry been cordial?”

  “Well,” Geoffrey said as he reseated himself next to the viscount. “I’ve not a lot of experience in the country. I have spent most of my time in London and traveling. But, for the most part,” his eyes snapped back to Angeline, “I would say I have been most welcome.” He picked up his teacup to take a sip. “The ladies have been most attractive and cordial.” He turned and smiled at Gertrude. “And the gentlemen have been friendly and sharing of their advice about my lands. I suppose I can say I am having pleasant experiences. Some, much more so than others.” His eyes slid back to Angeline.

  She felt herself flush.

  “So when do we meet your wife?” asked Lord Hexford.

  “Oh, Lord Colburn is not married,” put in Gertrude, beaming the smile of the hopeful. “I would expect he is looking for a bride now that he has the lands and titles.”

  “It is as you say, Miss Gertrude.”

  He was calling her by her Christian name already? Angeline was appalled.

  Geoffrey continued, “But, I am in no hurry as I wish to make the right choice.” His eyes had never left Angeline.

  “Well, you’ll not find easy pickings here, old chap.” Hexford ran his hand through his greasy hair before he continued. “Many of the ladies are taken or way past their prime. We’ve probably got the pick of the lot right in front of us.”

  “Lord Hexford, do be more tactful,” reprimanded Patience. “There are some lovely girls here. True, they may not be of the first water as the young things in London. But, they would make fine wives and would be happy to do a good husband’s bidding.”

  “Of course they would,” said Prudence. “They just need to learn the way of it. They are so sheltered here in the country.”

  “And well they should be,” put in Lord Hexford. “A Season in London would devastate their hopes forever.”

  “Lord Hexford, you are too cruel by half.” Angeline came to the defense of those less fortunate than herself. “Most of them have been raised with manners and grace. They cannot, after all, help what they look like; their upbringing must come to their aid.”

  “How noble of you, my dear,” drawled the viscount. “You who have so much to share and would share none of it. Yet you would hope the males among us would settle for so much less.”

  Angeline was about to protest when the front door slammed and, seconds later, a rumpled boy of maybe twelve years of age burst into the parlor. His eyes searched the room until they fell on her.

  “Lady Angeline,” he gasped, out of breath from
his run. “The doctor needs you now. It’s Mrs. Bennett. She’s birthing even as we speak. You must come. Now!”

  “David, I’ll get my wrap.” Angeline jumped up from her seat. Turning to her hostesses, she begged, “Miss Patience, Miss Prudence, I thank you for your hospitality but I must leave. Gertrude, I do hope I will see you soon again.” She turned to the gentlemen on the settee. “Lord Colburn. Lord Hexford.” She gave a quick curtsey, then escaped with David, silently thanking the heavens for her rescue.

  “The chit just won’t give over,” muttered Lord Hexford.

  “And just why should she?” asked Patience. “She has money and land. She has no need of a man. Prudence and I have gotten on these many years without one.”

  Her sister nodded in agreement.

  “And just look at the two of you,” Lord Hexford said as he rose from the settee. “I must be off myself. Ladies.” He bowed, then turned to Geoffrey. “Lord Colburn. I trust our paths will cross again?”

  “No doubt, sir.” Geoffrey stood and shook the extended hand. He was not anxious to revisit time with the viscount. And it sickened him to know he, too, was after Angeline’s hand. Not that he expected much competition from one as slovenly as Hexford. But, it would complicate things.

  After Hexford’s departure, Geoffrey returned to cordial conversation with the ladies. Since it was obvious Angeline held them in high regard, it could be a great benefit to him to nurture their good graces. And, he would have to tread cautiously so as not to get Miss Gertrude’s hopes up too high. But then again, it would be good for her to learn a little of the convolutions of society in a place as benign as Wentworth.